Yesterday was the "big day" for our new little baby. It was GENDER day. Only, we didn't find out its gender. Trust me, I know what you are thinking, "I could never do that!" Believe me, I never thought I could either. Yet imagine being shocked twice by "goo-goos" on the ultrasound screen after you were convinced you were having a girl once; then secretly hoping for a girl the second time and "Whoa! There's the goo- goo!" You just don't want to have to face the "goo-goo" again. For the third. Time. Maybe I should elaborate before you all think I'm an ungrateful, unloving mother to my sweet boys. I truly am not, and to cut to the chase, I wouldn't want my life any other way right now without my little boys.
So here's the story. For five years, my husband and I wanted children, but it just didn't happen. My husband's son would tell us every now and then how bad he wanted a brother or sister. Month after month passed, we hoped and prayed, but no baby. In the meantime, I would occasionally step aside to the baby department while shopping, just to touch the tiny clothes and imagine my own baby in them. For five years, do you know the only clothes I looked at were girl clothes? When I was told that I should start collecting things for a nursery out of faith, I decided to do so, and of course I chose a neutral theme of "Peter Rabbit" with lots of greens. However, I mentally picked out a few pink things to accent the room with that I knew I would purchase if our baby was a girl. Perhaps the desire for a girl had something to do with my childhood pledge to give my daughter the middle name of "Rose" as a tribute to my dear grandmother, who had died of brain cancer when I was 12. In fact, any girl name I've ever considered was tossed if it didn't match up well with "Rose."
In spite of all this, and even telling people I could see myself with all girls, I completely adored my nephews. Yes, I loved the nieces, but something about those baby boys pulled on my heartstrings. Foreshadowing, maybe? I watched my sister-in-law one day with her two little boys, and somewhere in my heart I thought "I would love two little boys!" I was shocked the thought entered my mind, and I suppose I brushed it away, because finally- I found out I was going to have a baby, and of course- I just knew it was a girl. I was so convinced that I began making bows, and even bought some inexpensive girl clothes at yard sales. Then came gender day. As soon as the tech placed the ultrasound on my baby belly- there HE was. I remember gasping, and then laughing. "It's a BOY!!!" I squeaked. I remember walking toward the elevator after my appointment in blissful shock. Looking back, the most wonderful thing about finding out my baby was a boy, was that I had already lived through a girl for 5 years. I knew how I would feel, I knew what I would buy; I was consumed with GIRL, but "it" was a BOY. Everything I felt from then on was new and exciting, and something I had never considered but found myself loving everyday. Mommy's little boy. It was just as thrilling as finding out I was pregnant all over again.
Skip to baby #2. I just had that feeling. It was another boy; I kind of knew it. I felt content because brothers would hopefully be the best of friends, but I also felt like- I suppose- everyone else on their second time around, you would like to have what you haven't experienced yet. Sure enough, first thing on the screen was BOY. And I laughed again. Only this time, I felt a pang of disappointment behind the laugh. I was so happy for Drew and Javan that they would have a new baby brother to play with, but I also had 20 more weeks of getting big and miserable, and the suspense was over- another boy. For 20 weeks, I lacked the sheer excitement I had with my first. I knew what to expect, I knew what my experience was going to be like. I washed and organized the same clothes my first baby wore. Then, on September 21, 2012, the most precious little boy was born, and surprisingly, my experience with him was special in a different way than my first boy. Instantly, any lingering desire I had for a girl completely vanished. He could not have been more perfect or beautiful, and at 15 months, he is still the easiest baby to care for. Everyday I admire his chubby little cuteness, and I watch his adorable mannerisms, and I would never, ever, EVER trade him for the most beautiful of baby girls.
Now we have #3. The pressure is ON. So I want to turn it off. Simple as that. This time, on gender day, I wasn't surprised by a goo-goo staring back at me. Instead, I got to enjoy our little baby as it was- a baby- playing peekaboo with its hand and shaking the umbilical cord like its own little womb rattle. Of course, my husband and I were both on high alert that the baby was going to show itself without warning. At one point, we both thought we might have saw "boy" in a split second. Then, after the tech had looked for herself while we shielded our eyes, she said minutes later, "Oh look at 'iz hand!" To which my husband and I discussed afterwards in the car whether she said "his" or "its." However, in favor of a possible girl, as the doctor was clicking through the pictures the tech had taken, I thought I saw what looked to be like a girl on one of them. I quickly looked away as I realized there really could be a gender picture in there- which there was- because the Dr. playfully told us at the end of the appointment he knew what we were going to have. However, I could not be more pleased with my decision to wait. The excitement of having a third baby is still there, not to mention it is just plain fun in this "instant" world we live in.
Yes, I must admit, there are days I honestly long for a daughter. In particular, days when we are all seated around the dinner table and I am just completely surrounded by boys... 13 years to 15 months, who don't care that we are eating. Scientifically, eating starts up the digestive system, which apparently releases- you know- as a side note, I have always dubbed "flatulence" as a "poohder." It just sounds so much more friendly and cutesy as opposed to its other crude names. There you have it, the dinner table, boys, and poohders. It's lovely, I tell you. {Note sarcasm.} While we're on this rabbit trail, my three year old's version of a "poohder" is a "pookah." Like, hookah with a p. It fits so well as gas really is a boy's own toxic drug. So, pookah. And I don't mind, because when we are in church and Javan declares to me he just "pookah-ed" during prayer request time, no one knows what in Sam's hill he's talking about. So anyway. Yes, there are days I'm just surrounded by boys and their pookahs, and their buttercups (ask my 13 year old step son what that is if you have no clue. I'm sure he would love to show you,) and I just want a little girl that I can take by the hand and say, "Yes, darling. We've had our share of pookahs and buttercups today. Let's go shopping." {Sigh...}
However, I am preparing myself for that moment when the baby is born in June, and the Dr. says "Another boy, Mrs. Bailey!" I know that mommy instinct will kick in, and once again, the thoughts of girl will vanish away. We will marvel at how tiny and precious, and debate on who he looks like. In the years to come, there will be a lot of basketball games, camping trips, and horseback riding. I don't mind; I've always enjoyed those things anyway. I think of what my former teacher told me a couple years ago when I told her my husband and I were expecting a third boy into the family. She said "That is wonderful! You know, some women are meant to be the mother of boys." She gave me a definitive nod and added, "That's just the way it's suppose to be." True, that is. My dear grandmother was the mother of four boys, no girls. So, you just never know. Maybe I am meant to be the "Rose" among all these thorns... and pookahs.
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